


erysimum

by MalevolentReverie



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ben is 16, Breastfeeding, F/M, High School, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Older Woman/Younger Man, POV First Person, POV Rey (Star Wars), Power Imbalance, Rey is a guidance counselor, idk if this will have noncon, oedipus complex, rey is 30, tagging just in case it does
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:54:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24963331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalevolentReverie/pseuds/MalevolentReverie
Summary: Rey is a guidance counselor at a small high school where she meets a new, troubled student named Ben. He seems like a quiet wallflower.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 393
Kudos: 691
Collections: Ijustfellintothissendhelp





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i’m an American so this is based on the American education system

The dozen plants in my office aren’t enough, so on Friday I decide to buy my unlucky thirteenth.

It’s a _Sansevieria_ , of course; not much else can survive there. Small and frail and poorly cared for in the ramshackle little nursery I buy it from, but I’ve always loved the ones that need extra attention. It takes a lot of effort to kill _Sansevieria_. A lot of effort.

I bring it home to my apartment for a little TLC before it goes to the windowsill at school. My kids like watering them and watching them grow but this guy needs some fertilizer and special love before it can go there. Might take a couple weeks, but snake plants are tough. Maybe it will surprise me.

My cat, Hattie, swirls around my ankles watching me settle the freshly watered plant on my nightstand. She meows softly. I’m sure she can’t wait to try knocking it over. Obnoxious.

I crouch to pet her long black fur, smiling.

“Be good. This one needs special attention.”

—•—

On Monday I have Kaydel Ko Konnix in my office sobbing about Bazine Netal being mean to her on Facebook. She wails and bawls so hard her whole face puffs up and she runs through an entire box of tissues. Poor kid. She’s so sweet; too sweet to hang around girls like Bazine.

“She called me a-a-a—” Kaydel stutters and cries. “A _cunt_!”

I’m not really required to deal with these kinds of things outside school but it’s a small district and I love my kids. There isn’t a lot of money for a bonafide therapist so I do my best with my Master’s degree from public college. It’s all I can do.

I offer Kaydel a personal pack of tissues and she blows her nose again. Bazine is a difficult girl—she’s been in my office more than once for bullying issues. Her father is a minister. He didn’t want to listen to me explaining that she could use professional help. Typical in a small, conservative town.

“I’m sorry, Kaydel,” I say in a lull of sobs. “I know it hurts when people call us names.”

“I asked if I could come to her p-party!” Kaydel wipes her eyes and sniffles hard. “She always has a p-party after spring formal and… and H-Hux is gonna b-be there.” She looks at her hands. “I just wanted to g-go. I’ve never gone.”

I shrug half heartedly. “No one invited me anywhere in high school, either. I know it hurts but college is much better, honey. Lots of new people.”

“That’s what mom always s-says.”

“It’s true. This is just a little snippet of your life, Kaydel.” I motion to my plants lining the windowsill. “You come in here every Wednesday and keep these plants alive, right? And you have a scholarship to NYU! Some party with a boy is nothing. Trust me.”

Kaydel doesn’t seem convinced. I know. I wasn’t convinced when I was sixteen and high school felt like the sum of my short life—but she’s a smart girl and Armitage Hux is a spoiled asshole, and I hate her being hung up on him. She’s wasting her energy.

She goes back to her biology class and I’m left to prune my plants before my 11am appointment with, of course, Bazine Netal. I can’t let the bully go without some kind of intervention. I have to try, even if her pain-in-the-ass father doesn’t care.

“Rey?”

I glance up from my _Pothos_ and find Poe Dameron, the gym teacher, hanging at my door. He’s sweaty. Grinning. Always grinning. Wearing shorts that are way too short and a sleeveless shirt. Nice biceps.

I raise an eyebrow. “Another fight?” Kids always get into fights in his classes.

“Nah, nah.” He laughs and edges inside, passing a hand through his curly hair. “You’ve got a new kid coming tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I know his parents; they asked me to keep an eye on him. Mind sending him my way when you’re done?”

“Sure.”

“Cool, cool.” He nods, eyeing my plants. “So, you doing anything after work today?”

Poe, Poe, Poe. Not my type. He’s nice and he tries but he’s not my type. Jocky. Loud.

I just heave a sigh and he laughs and slaps his hand on the doorframe, promising to try again tomorrow. Sure. He’s been trying for the year I’ve worked here.

After he leaves I organize my desk, putting away Post-Its and dusting off my new computer. I’m not looking forward to my conversation with Bazine. Popular girls always make me anxious, even though I’m thirty and have a graduate degree. Those scars from high school never go away, I guess.

The poor girl living in a trailer park didn’t have much hope for popularity. Shockingly.

I work on organizing applications for colleges when I’m through cleaning. It’s important that everyone goes to college. It can change their lives.

—•—

Minister Netal calls me Tuesday morning to bitch me out for asking Bazine to refrain from calling other girls ‘cunt’ on social media. I barely listen to his shouting and insisting that his ‘sweet girl’ doesn’t use ‘that language.’ I’m surprised she’s allowed on a computer at all, with how much of a fundy he is.

I’m exhausted by the end of it. Hattie threw up her new expensive food on my new couch, the _Sansevieria_ is wilting, and I’ve drawn the ire of the most popular man in town. Great. I’m doing a fabulous job so far.

I cup my head in my hands and groan. Kaydel is coming in at one to talk, Hux needs to make sure his application to Harvard went through, Rose is texting me on and off about needing supplies for her art room. I have zero control over that but it’s stressful. She has to buy so much—the school budget is awful.

I’m tired. Stressed.

“Miss Niima?”

I peer through my fingers. Our office secretary, Hannah, is peeking into my office, hand raised to knock. She smiles and gestures to the waiting room.

“Mister Solo is here. It’s his first day.”

 _Fuck_. Right. New kid.

I nod and straighten up, clicking out of emails. “Great. You can send him right in.”

“Okay, will do.”

Hannah slips away and murmurs to someone. I smooth down my hair and pick lint off my blouse. Okay. Game face. He’s going to be nervous and I have to help him settle in.

I’m spritzing perfume to help chase away the heavy smell of must when a very tall, very hunched teenage boy shuffles into my office. His hood is drawn up so I can barely see his black hair and he keeps his eyes on the floor as he ambles to a chair. He smells like Axe. Fairly typical for a teenage boy.

Ben Solo—sixteen. He’s big for his age but it’s hard to tell with the thick black hoodie and dark jeans. Eleventh grade. Twelfth grade this fall.

I clasp my hands on my desk and smile. “Hi, Ben. Nice to meet you.”

Silence. His hands are stuffed in his hoodie pockets. His fancy red Nikes tap rapidly on the carpet. I can make out a long nose and pale skin but not much else. One of those shy kids, I guess.

I open my lower drawer and pull out his schedule. “I already set up your classes based on what your parents sent to the principal. All AP stuff, but if it’s too much just come on back and let me know. You’re starting in chemistry today with my friend Mister Reynolds. Finn. Nice guy.”

Ben still doesn’t respond. He hesitantly takes his schedule in long, thick fingers and shoves it in his hoodie pocket. Doesn’t look up.

It’s a little nerve-wracking. He makes me uneasy—brings up all those tragedies at other schools over the years. It’s not fair to make that assumption a minute after meeting the kid. There are plenty of wallflowers walking the halls and from what I’ve seen, brief as it was, he’s smart, too.

I’ll make an appointment to check up on him Friday. Little busy right now.

“Well you can come see me if you need something,” I say. “I’ll try to see you Friday at nine, okay?”

“Okay.”

Deep voice. Cracks a little and he clears his throat.

I study him for another minute. “Okay. Well, Mister Dameron said he knows your parents and he wanted to see you. Want me to show you where the gym is?”

Ben shrugs, so I take that as a yes. Need to stretch my legs anyway.

I lead him out of the office down the blue hallway to the gym’s double doors. It’s not very far from the administrative offices where me and the principal and the other support staff work. Elementary school is down the stairs and around the corner, close to the lunch room. It’s a small place.

Ben follows a couple feet behind me with his big shoulders hunched like he’s trying to disappear. We pause outside the gym.

“Sorry,” I preface the command with, “but you can’t have your hood up at school.”

He quickly pulls it down. Dark eyes shift to the doors, sweeping over me and avoiding my face. His hair hangs down to his shoulders. Kind of messy. He’s pale and has a long face and sloping jaw; he’s clenching his teeth, fidgeting a little.

I try another smile. “After your done with Poe I’ll show you around some more.”

“Okay.”

“Your transcript said you went to an all-boys private school. Weird not wearing a uniform, huh?”

“I guess.”

…Okay. Man of few words. That’s fine.

I knock on the gym doors and hear sneakers squeaking inside. It pops open and Poe sticks his sweaty head out, whistle between his lips.

He breaks into a grin and offers a hand to Ben for a shake, but Ben doesn’t move. His expression tightens actually, slipping into a glare. He’s looking up at the top of the door past Poe’s head.

“I’m going to give him a tour when you’re done,” I say, trying to head off the awkward pause.

“I’ll do it.” Poe pats the edge of the door and jerks his head. “Come on, kid. Dad wants you to sign up for baseball.”

I laugh. Poe raises his eyebrows and when I look back, Ben is actually looking at me.

I wave a hand. “Baseball? Doesn’t he have the build of a quarterback?”

His pale skin reddens and he averts his eyes again. Poe laughs, which I don’t get. He’s super tall and broad in the shoulders; not really the ideal build for a baseball player.

“All the Solo men play ball, Rey,” Poe says. He motions for Ben to follow. “Han did, I did.”

“You’re not my fucking brother.”

The sharp retort from Ben surprises me but Poe doesn’t seem shocked. He just laughs and pushes open the door, jerking his head toward the gym. I should probably tell him to watch his language around a teacher but Poe is being _really_ annoying and I sense Ben doesn’t want to play baseball.

“How about we revisit this next week?” I suggest. “There are a lot of clubs and extracurriculars for Ben to choose from, so he doesn’t have to sign up immediately for baseball.”

Poe rolls his eyes. “Sports are good for kids.”

“Sure they are, but it’s not a requirement.”

That draws an annoyed sigh from Poe. He shrugs again and lets it go, but not without reminding Ben his dad is going to be annoyed.

The gym door shuts. I glance over my shoulder at Ben, who is staring at his feet.

“Shall we?” I ask.

We continue the rest of the tour in silence, littered with my attempts at conversation and Ben quietly giving me one-word answers. I’m concerned when I drop him off in chemistry, maybe because the quiet kids always seem to get tormented the most.

My heels click on the worn vinyl flooring in the empty halls. I’ll try to see him again Thursday instead of Friday. Just to make sure.


	2. Chapter 2

I’m swamped Thursday with seniors who need help applying to college and getting their FAFSA filled out. I haven’t heard any bad news from teachers regarding the new kid—what was his name, again?—so I figure our second meeting can wait until Friday.

Bazine Netal drops by that morning to complain about Finn Reynolds, the chemistry teacher. He and I have been friends for a long time—he’s a nice guy; super laidback just like Poe. Rose was seeing him for a bit but they didn’t really hit it off.

Bazine drapes herself in my chair, kicking her long legs and groaning. I raise my eyebrows but keep working on my computer and half-listening.

“Chem is boring,” she mutters.

“That’s not Mister Reynolds’s fault, Baz.”

She heaves a sigh. I’m not sure how she get out of her house this morning in the skirt she’s wearing, since her father is a pretty severe guy. Maybe she changes when she gets to school.

“I guess,” she sighs again. She turns her head to look at me, scowling. “But I’m almost failing and that’s definitely his fault.”

“That’s because you don’t do your _homework_.” I roll my eyes when she does. “Uh huh.”

“It’s so haaaaard,” Bazine whines.

“Get a tutor. Or ask Mister Reynolds for help.”

Her blonde head lolls back and she gives another defeated groan. I don’t think she’s a bad kid, even though she can be a _real_ bitch sometimes. They all have their reasons for acting out or failing or even bullying. Just being available and giving them some direction can do wonders.

Already got Bazine to apologize to Kaydel. Easy stuff when you take the time to explain to kids how their actions hurt other people. But Baz is still not a very nice girl, and I can only do so much.

She puckers her hot pink lips. “What about that new kid? The Sasquatch?”

“ _Miss Netal_.”

“What?! Have you seen him? He’s fucking gigantic.” She shrugs and sits upright, swinging her legs around. “Hux says he’s super smart. Weirdo. You think I could get him to tutor me?”

“Maybe you should just ask Mister Reynolds. Ben still needs to settle into his classes before he can start tutoring people.”

I don’t know why I’m so against her getting help from Ben. It’d probably be a good way for him to meet people but… Bazine can be a lot. She’s a bit of a corrupting influence.

Baz rolls her eyes and bounces her foot and huffs. I’m reminded that I didn’t see Ben yesterday and I probably should, though it doesn’t seem like he’s going to be a problem. Quiet kid. Good grades, though they’ve been slipping in the past two years. Sometimes that happens to teenagers.

Bazine leaves to talk to Finn and I take the opportunity to check Ben’s schedule. He’s in pre calc and I don’t want to go pulling him from class just for a meet and greet so I plan to catch him after lunch. Missing gym isn’t the apocalypse.

—•—

Ben sticks out like a sore thumb in the sea of teens walking back from lunch. I wait near my office door and wave to the ones who call out to me. They all pass by on their way back up to classes.

But Ben towers above most of the kids: he’s wearing black again from head to toe and has his hood up. When he glances my way and I raise my eyebrows he quickly pulls it down, pale face flushing red. I beckon him with my index finger.

“How’s it going?” I ask as we walk into my office. “Made any friends?”

He shrugs. I close the door behind us and gesture for him to take a seat and he does so with all the grace of a bull in a china shop. It’s getting too warm for long-sleeved shirts and hoodies and jeans but here he is. Bet he’s one of those kids that wears that shit _all year_ and sweats like crazy.

I sit behind my desk, studying him for a moment. He looks okay. Poe says his mother works in politics and is wealthy but busy. She and his dad are divorced. Ben doesn’t get along well with either parent and has always been sort of withdrawn.

“Is Poe still bugging you about baseball?” I ask, smiling. “I don’t mind telling him off.”

Ben shakes his head, avoiding my eyes. His hands are shoved in his hoodie and he’s slouching.

I’m determined to get a full sentence out of him, though. Most of the kids like me and trust me and I want the same relationship with Ben. He probably just needs a friend.

“Any other clubs you’re thinking of joining?” I press. “Rose—Miss Tico—said you like calligraphy.” He shrugs. “Do you have any other hobbies? Any instruments? Video games?”

He shrugs again but mumbles a reply. “I like computers.”

Great—I don’t know shit about computers. I was hoping for video games because I do love _Animal Crossing_ but I can bullshit my way through a conversation about computers.

“Do you build them?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

“Well that’s cool! I can barely get my email to work half the time so maybe I’ll call you in when I need help, if that’s okay?”

“Sure.”

“Are you one of those hackers? I saw a show the other day where these people made off with billions of dollars from hacking banks.”

“Carbanak? They made a billion.”

Ben defrosts slightly. He nods when I raise my eyebrows, meeting my gaze for a second before quickly averting his eyes again. Shy—or just nervous.

I shake my head and recline back in my chair. “The things I could do with a billion dollars. What would you do?”

His hands move around in his hoodie pocket, broad shoulders hunched like he’s hoping to disappear. No dice. We’ll be friends if I die trying.

“…Buy a house?” Ben ventures. “A car?”

“Well that’s practical. Would you buy a super fancy supercomputer with your other nine hundred million? Pay for college?”

“I’m not going to college, so…” He shifts in his seat and shrugs. “I guess I could donate most of it.”

I frown, instantly pulled off track. Not going to college? Why isn’t he going to college? He has good grades, his family has the money, and he likes computers. Seems like a no-brainer.

But I don’t launch into my speech about how important higher education is. I cock my head.

“Other plans?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

Good god—

“What kind of plans?” I press.

Ben’s jaw tightens noticeably. I’m sure this is an argument he’s already had with his parents and he’s gearing up to defend himself, and I don’t want to put him in a defensive state.

I smile and wave dismissively. “Doesn’t matter. You have plenty of time to decide what you want to do, right? Doesn’t always have to include college.” It _should_ in my opinion, but…

He glances at me, guarded dark eyes searching my face. Very defensive kid. I try to smile to put him at ease but he doesn’t really relax, just stays tense, now just staring at me. I can imagine his parents aren’t pleased that he wants to skip college.

Ben nods once. “That’s what I told mom and dad.”

“Lots of kids go to trade school. My foster father was an electrician and he made good money.” Which he hoarded while I starved.

That makes Ben straighten up some, nodding a little quicker. He takes his hands from his hoodie and rubs them down his thighs.

“I wanna do something like that—something physical.” He squeezes his knees until his knuckles turn white. “Mom wants me to be a lawyer or a governor or something and dad wants me to work on cars. I want to do my own thing.”

“You should! Whatever makes you happy.”

The kid sitting in front of me wouldn’t make much of a politician or lawyer—from what I can tell. Not sure he’ll be crazy about becoming a plumber or electrician or welder or whatever when he sees their working conditions but who am I to judge?

Ben nods more, exhaling a deep breath he’s been holding. Trade school is a totally legitimate choice. Just seems like he’d be better off at MIT or some computer science university instead.

I clasp my hands on my desk. “Well, if you ever want to talk I’m here. Kaydel comes to water the plants a few days a week and Bazine wanders in whenever she wants but usually I have a block of free time right after lunch. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“…Okay. Thanks.”

Ben gets up, hands shoved in his hoodie pocket once more. He moves to pull up his hood but hesitates and I can’t help but laugh. Old habits die hard.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

“It’s fine. Just kind of funny.”

He nods once, sharp, and turns to open the door. He pauses there and looks back at me.

“Thanks,” he says.

I barely manage to reply before he’s out the door and out of earshot. Hannah peers into my office and I shrug. Don’t know. Kind of a strange kid.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bennnnnnnn 🥺

“So that new kid is quite the artist, Rey.”

I’m out having dinner and drinks with Finn and Rose, which is _supposed_ to be a strict no-work-discussion zone, but a lull in the conversation brings it right out. Ugh. I don’t want to talk about students when I’m trying to relax. She knows my rule.

I raise my eyebrows and roll my eyes as I sip my cabaret. Finn bursts out laughing, one arm around the back of the booth he’s sharing with Rose, and she shrugs and smiles. It’s nice and quiet in the restaurant and I’m full of chicken cacciatore and two glasses of wine. I don’t want to talk about a student.

“He sucks at chemistry,” Finn offers. “If that’s any consolation. Nice kid, though.”

“Fantastic,” I mutter, polishing off my wine. “Get back to me Monday morning when I’m sober.”

They laugh again. I’m only half-joking. I care about the kids but I also care about separating work and my personal life, too.

I clear my throat and gesture to Rose.

“So—tell us about this new art project you’re doing.”

We chat and catch up and drink our wine. Surprisingly, we’re all usually too busy at work to drop by and talk to each other so on Fridays or Saturdays we make an effort to go out together.

Rose drives me home afterwards, since she’s only had _one_ glass of wine, and I wave as I walk up the steps of my apartment building. She honks and her little Toyota rolls off into the night, leaving me fumbling with my keys, squinting and muttering. Fuck. Hard to do stuff when you’re totally blitzed.

Upstairs I’m greeted by Hattie insistently meowing for her dinner. I manage to close my door and turn the deadbolt, purse sliding off my arm to the floor.

“I know, I know,” I mumble. “Relax, cat.”

I bump into my coffee table and swear up a storm. Hattie keeps meowing until I make it out to the kitchen, carefully touching the walls so I don’t smack my head off a doorway or something. Should’ve fed her before I left so I could just go home and pass out.

I crack open a can of Friskies from the pantry. Hattie really starts meowing at me as I set her bowl on the floor and I give her a quick pet before I straighten up.

“Didn’t water my plants, Hattie,” I sigh. I squint at the few on my kitchen windowsill. “Do it tomorrow.”

All I get in response is her loud chewing.

I wander down the hall to my bedroom and collapse on my new blue quilt. My ears ring and the world swirls around me, and for some reason my mind drifts towards that new kid. It’s Rose’s fault for bringing him up. Damn her.

I yawn, eyes fluttering shut. I really hate thinking about work when I’m not at work.

—•—

I’m still reeling from Saturday night when I get to school Monday morning. Thankfully it’s a slow, quiet day, and I slink into my office to nurse my persistent hangover. Gone are the days of shotgunning beer and drinking straight from the keg. I can’t even handle three glasses of wine.

I keep my shades on while I sip blue Gatorade through a straw and check my email. Hannah, always a blessing, brings me one of those microwaved breakfast sandwiches and I pick it apart, testing my stomach in small bites. This is pathetic.

Throughout the day I have some seniors filter in for help with FAFSA, because it’s awful, and I decide to treat myself to pizza in the cafeteria for lunch. I haven’t thrown up my Jimmy Dean breakfast sandwich so I think I’m fully prepared for greasy pizza.

I wave to a couple kids on the short walk and get in line behind another teacher. It’s loud in here: lots of laughing and wandering between the long tables to talk; very much a sea of cliques. I scan the crowd curiously, back to wondering how that new kid is doing, when I hear someone clear their throat behind me.

Speak of the devil.

“Hey, Ben!” I smile up at him and get a smile in return. “How goes it?”

He’s wearing some long-sleeved band shirt and jeans today, which is a slight improvement from the jet black. His hair is looped up in a bun but some of it hangs down and hides his ears. Looks better today. Happier. That’s great.

He shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Pretty good. Actually I wanted to ask how you are? You looked sort of sick earlier.”

Oh my god, he’s saying more than one word. I have to conversate while the door is still open.

“Yeah.” I laugh, and his slim smile widens a little. “Don’t turn thirty. It’s hard.”

We amble forward in line. Someone calls out to me and I wave, and Ben glances in their direction. One of the football players. He got a concussion last season.

“So did you have a good weekend?” I ask.

“It was fine. That Bazine girl asked me for help in chem.”

I groan. God. Fucking Bazine.

“I told her not to,” I say, walking backwards as the line moves. “She’s really pushy but just ignore her.”

“I didn’t even answer her text,” Ben admits sheepishly.

“Good. I’ll tell Finn—Mister Reynolds—to offer her tutoring if she needs it. I told her you’re new and need to settle in but she usually just does whatever she wants.”

Ben nods. We come up to the serving counter and I ask for my slice of pepperoni. Ben gets three, which isn’t shocking considering he’s built like a linebacker. I usually am not so modest about my diet but I’m still mildly concerned I’ll projectile vomit if I eat too much.

When I have my pizza and Coke I notice Ben scanning the lunch room, clearly looking for somewhere to sit and fit in. His knuckles tighten on his tray and I get a flashback to my own miserable time in high school.

“Hey.” I beckon him. “Let’s go up to my office.”

Ben hesitates, so I roll my eyes and snap my fingers a couple times, already heading for the exit.

He trails me up the stairs. Hannah is out having lunch with her fiancé so we have the office all to ourselves, and I close my door behind Ben.

He plops in the chair at my desk, awkwardly holding his tray in his lap until I pick it up and set it on the desk. At that point I notice his hands are trembling and I frown, eyeing his bowed head. Is he… nervous? Why would he be nervous? I’m super friendly.

I sit. “I know this is extremely offensive, but I’m cutting my pizza with a knife and fork.” That gets me another lopsided smile that doesn’t show his teeth. “Any favorite foods, Ben? Foie gras? Caviar?”

“I like… ribs?”

“Always a good choice.” I cut up my pizza into chunks and notice him doing the same thing. “You might not believe this, but I did a few eating contests in college.”

“Really?”

“Hot dogs. It’s easy with enough water, _and_ …” I point at him with my fork. “I am literally always hungry.”

That gets me a slight laugh. Finally.

We eat our pizza quietly and I decide not to bug Ben with more questions until he’s done. He’s fastidious for a teenage boy and keeps wiping his hands or mouth after almost every bite. I am not quite as fastidious but I can rustle up manners for company.

I offer him hand sanitizer when he’s done and he mumbles a thank you. It gives me a glimpse of his wrists where I see knotted, pale scars that make my stomach sink. Oh.

“I cut my pizza up, too,” Ben says. He rubs the sanitizer in, and when I glance at him his face flushes pink. “I wasn’t like—being weird and copying you. I hate having sticky stuff on my hands.”

“You’ll have a hard time welding.”

“Gloves.”

“Touché,” I reply, and sip my soda. Now I’m really worried about him but I don’t want to scare him off. Fuck. Please don’t hurt yourself. “How’s everything at home?”

Ben’s throat bobs. He shrugs, avoiding my eyes, and i wrack my brain for the best way to tackle this.

“Sorry,” I say, trying to play it off, “just being nosy. I’m annoying like that.”

“It’s okay.” He rubs the nape of his neck. “I’m actually almost emancipated so… that’s cool. Been living with my friend for a while now.”

“Uh oh. Two teenage boys living together?” Please tell me it’s two teenage boys living together.

Ben freezes up again. I think he can sense that we’re getting into dangerous territory here. I just really want him to tell me he’s just living with another teenager’s family and not some random—

“He was a teacher at my old school. He’s cool.”

Oh _Jesus_. I try to feign a smile and nod encouragingly but _oh Jesus_. Why is he living with a teacher? Why is he being emancipated when he has two parents who are more than capable of taking care of him? Is this kid going to be lost at sea here? I’m not happy about this teacher thing. Where is he? I just want to talk. Really. Maybe ask if he’s fucking crazy.

I swallow my last piece of crust and pound some Gatorade. This is bad. I should call social services or something. Why is this poor kid living with a strange adult man and former authority figure?

Ben studies his large hands in his lap. If he’s emancipated I don’t think there’s much I can do. I have to read up on that. Act fast. Please stop living with strange adult men, honey. Jesus _Christ_. I’m not going to be able to sleep until I do something about this. I’m so worried.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, wincing, then fake another smile. “Well I hope you feel safe there.”

“Yeah.” He doesn’t look at me. “He’s cool.”

“I’m so sad that you’re being emancipated, Ben. That must be hard.”

“Yeah.”

“I was emancipated when I was fifteen, you know.” That draws his doleful dark eyes to mine and I nod. Not lying. No point in lying to kids. “I know it’s really hard.”

“Did it help?” he asks. He’s searching my face like he thinks I’m going to lie.

Yes. Unkar was a fucking loser and I had been taking care of myself for years anyway. I didn’t have two parents to go home to, but Ben does.

“For me? Yes.” I pause. “I just hope you’ve really talked to your parents and thought this through, Ben. It’s very hard to live on your own when you’re so young, even if you have your… friend to help.”

The bell rings a handful of seconds later. Ben seems pensive as he throws out his trash but he agrees to come see me again Wednesday. 

I watch him leave, cold balling in my chest. I’m worried. I’m really worried. I often worry about the kids—I genuinely care about them—but I haven’t been _this_ worried in a very long time.


	4. Chapter 4

Ben’s parents are exceedingly difficult people to get a hold of. Han, the father, doesn’t even have a cell phone, and Leia, the mother, just doesn’t answer. Her secretary does, and even when I say it’s urgent and I’m calling from her son’s school, I don’t get a response.

It pisses me off.

I try to figure out who he’s living with but the address on file with the school is Leia’s. Another dead end that pisses me off even more. He shouldn’t be living with a teacher. That’s just creepy. He’s a sixteen year old kid who should be home with his parents but I guess they’re both too busy to be bothered with him. Poor thing.

My last resort is to look Ben up on Facebook and see if there’s anything there. I use my personal phone to do it and feel extremely creepy typing in his name, but remind myself I’m trying to _help_ , and nothing more. I’m not going to invite the kid to live with me or anything.

There I sit on Monday morning, searching for a student on Facebook. Spent my whole weekend worrying about the kid despite my strict ‘no work outside work’ rule.

I scroll through a dozen Ben Solos and don’t find him, and it stresses me out even more. Sure I see shades of myself in him, but I see that in plenty of kids. This is just so glaring and raw—I know I’m watching him about to slide down a dangerous path and it’s practically giving me hives.

“Ben, Ben, Ben,” I mutter, clicking my tongue. I spin slowly in my chair. “Where oh where are you living?”

If he’s being emancipated he has to be able to prove he’s self-sufficient. I lived alone in a ramshackle studio but it counted. I can’t believe a judge would approve of him living with a former teacher. I can’t believe his _parents_ would approve of it.

I’m not supposed to see him until Wednesday, but I mosey down to Rose’s art room to check up on him early. Just in case.

Rose is helping a kid paint a vase when I peek my head in. It’s a big room with high ceilings, filled with all kinds of paintings and drawings past students have left behind, and she has a little gallery where she features some kids once a month.

I wave, but frown when I don’t see Ben. Weird. He’s supposed to be in art right now.

Rose comes over to say hi, also frowning. She looks across her small class.

“He’s not here,” she says. “I don’t think he showed up at all today.”

Well that’s concerning. I purse my lips.

“Alright. I’ll see if I can find him.”

“Sure, sure.” She nods toward Bazine hunched over a painting. “Baz has his number if you want it. I know you haven’t been having any luck reaching his parents so maybe that will work.”

Ugh. It will, probably, but I don’t want to be texting sixteen year olds.

Rose hustles to Bazine and brings her back to me. She huffs when I ask for Ben’s number, snapping her gum as she reads it off to me.

“He never answers,” she snips.

I thank her and Rose and head back to my office, already composing a text. Hey, it’s me, your guidance counselor. Totally not weird.

> **(732) 944-2034** >
> 
> * * *
> 
> **iMessage  
> ** **Today** 10:26 AM
> 
> Hello Ben! This is Miss Niima just checking in on you. Hope you’re feeling okay!

There. That’s not weird. Perfectly polite. Satisfied, I put my phone in my pocket and return to my office.

It takes five minutes for me to regret texting Ben. It’s weird. I should’ve told the principal instead. Now if I do I also have to casually mention I texted a student, which is… weird.

Then my phone vibrates.

I snatch it up, relieved to hear from Ben even though I shouldn’t have messaged him in the first place.

> thanks

“ _Really_?” I grumble. I hesitate, thumbs hovering over the keyboard.

> Everything okay? Miss Tico missed you in art class this morning!  
>  **Read** 10:34 AM
> 
> I’m fine
> 
> Okay, great. If you need anything just let me know. 😊  
>  **Delivered**

Slightly weird. Little clingy. Could’ve done without the emoji. I put my phone down and get back to work.

An hour goes by. Poe Dameron swings by to chat and brings one of his athletes who wants a flyer from Penn State about their scholarships. I talk to them for a bit and right after they leave, my phone vibrates.

> **Today** 11:48 AM
> 
> Leia’s secretary said you called

“Shit,” I hiss. Well, there goes the flimsy trust he had in me.

> Ack! At least you got a callback. I have to check up when you guys aren’t in school. Is there a better contact?  
>  **Read** 11:50 AM
> 
> She only calls to complain anyway lol
> 
> Not really. Snoke I guess but he’s mad at me right now so doesn’t matter
> 
> Aww. 😞 Why’s he mad at you?
> 
> Stuff

I frown. Don’t really like that answer.

> Okay—sorry, I don’t mean to pry. Just want to make sure you’re safe.
> 
> It’s ok I know you’re just doing your job
> 
> Making sure you’re safe isn’t a chore or a job for me, Ben. I really do care about your well-being.  
>  **Read** 11:53 AM

He doesn’t respond for a few minutes. I’m increasingly concerned and try not to fly into a full-scale panic. I should get lunch. Turkey panini today.

Ben sends me a text while I’m getting my stuff together to head to lunch.

> **Today** 12:15 PM
> 
> Thank you  
> That means a lot
> 
> No need to thank me—always here if you need anything. Also, you’re missing turkey paninis today. 😪
> 
> Tragic
> 
> 🤣

I smile as I slip my phone in my pocket. Good. Hopefully he opens up to me a little more.

—•—

I’m feeling better about texting Ben after lunch. Finn tells me he used to text a troubled student a few years ago and it helped the kid a lot, and Rose says she still texts a couple of hers. It’s not completely weird if you maintain boundaries. Which I can do.

Usually I wouldn’t. I care about the kids but I don’t like letting my work bleed over into my private life. Ben is different, though—like looking in a mirror.

Once I’m home I try to find the Snoke person Ben mentioned but he’s not on Facebook, either.

Hattie sits on my lap, purring while I sip my tea and scroll through Facebook. It’s an unusual name so he shouldn’t be hard to find if he _is_ on social media. I’d like to speak to him. Maybe he’s just trying to help Ben like I am, and I’m worrying for nothing.

I sigh, and Hattie peers up at me.

“This is getting weird,” I say.

She meows. Thought so.

I shuffle out to the kitchen for a glass of wine and lean on the island while I sip. Should go for a run. Watch a movie. Bazine’s father called me this morning and I still haven’t called him back to see what he wants. His daughter stopped bullying other kids on Facebook so I’m pretty much done there.

I’m debating what I want to do with my evening when my phone vibrates on the island. I finish my glass of wine and check it.

> **Today** 12:15 PM
> 
> No need to thank me—always here if you need anything. Also, you’re missing turkey paninis today. 😪
> 
> Tragic
> 
> 7:21 PM
> 
> Hey  
> Just so you know that Bazine girl texted me

God—Bazine. I roll my eyes.

> Is she bothering you?  
>  **Delivered**
> 
> No she just asked why you wanted my number lol  
> She’s nosy I just ignore her
> 
> Yeah, that’s what’s best. Hope you’re feeling better!
> 
> I am thanks  
> Even though I missed turkey paninis
> 
> Don’t know how you’ll ever recover from that 😔  
>  **Read** 7:23 PM
> 
> I know I know I had to settle for those microwaveable French bread pizzas like some kind of wild animal
> 
> Hey, don’t knock the French bread pizzas! Cornerstone of my diet in college.

Okay—that’s probably enough of being chummy with him. I set my phone face down and pour another glass of wine and swear I won’t check my phone.

But Ben texts me back and I check anyway.

> Sorry you’re right, eating like a raccoon is totally valid
> 
> LOL

I snort. I do kind of eat like a raccoon. I’m good at cooking with whatever I can find, and I _love_ TV dinners and other processed junk like that. It’s just easier. Never was a ‘spend six hours prepping dinner’ type of person.

I plop on my couch and watch _Hotel Impossible._ Another text comes.

> Sorry that was a bad joke
> 
> Oh no, totally on point. 😂 I had a Lunchable for dinner, so… on point.  
>  **Delivered**
> 
> Cheese pizza right
> 
> Of course!
> 
> Good good

I smile and set my phone down. Nice kid. Has a good sense of humor. Hope he decides to show up to school tomorrow. 

My glass of wine dwindles. I get up for another glass, even though it’s a Monday night. Whoops.

> Is Snoke still mad at you?  
>  **Read** 8:09 PM
> 
> Yeah
> 
> Aww. Sorry.
> 
> No big deal he’s usually mad at me  
> I’ve just been out walking around most of the day
> 
> Walking? Alone?
> 
> Yeah

Ugh. _Ugh_. Out walking alone? It’s getting warmer with spring coming around but he shouldn’t be just wandering the streets by himself.

I heave a sigh that dips into a groan and rub my face with both hands. Poe knows this kid’s family, right? Ben got awful pissed about him insinuating they were brothers, though—and I hate texting Poe. Always starts haranguing me to go out on a date.

> Giving me gray hairs, Ben. 😩
> 
> Lol sorry Miss Niima  
> Your hair looks all brown to me  
> If that helps
> 
> 😂😂 Thanks kiddo.

“Glad my hair looks brown,” I say, then laugh. Teenagers are strange.

It’s a quiet night after that, and I debate texting Poe about Ben right up until I fall asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for once, poor ben

“I can’t watch him, Rey. Kid’s a wreck.”

Poe sits across from me at my desk, spread out and waving his right knee slowly side to side. He hates sitting still so I know I only have a couple minutes of his attention before he races off.

Ben is in school today—I saw him in the hallway this morning and gave him a wave—but I could tell even from a distance that he’s tired. Exhausted. Poe knows his family so I was _hoping_ he would offer to take the kid in until I can figure out where Han and Leia are.

I rub my forehead, closing my eyes. I’m truly desperate if I’m willing to trust Poe with a child for an extended period of time.

“Can you put me through to his parents?” I ask.

“Look.” Poe sits up a bit, gesturing with both hands. “Ben has been a problem kid for a long time—he gives both of his parents a lot of grief. It’s better for everyone if he gets emancipated. Really.”

“He’s living with—with some _teacher_ , Poe. And he says this guy gets mad at him and he ends up wandering the streets.”

“He’s fine, Rey.” Poe laughs as he stands. “You see the size of that kid? No one is gonna mess with him.”

My time with Poe is clearly up. I cover my face with both hands after he leaves and heave a long, deep sigh. Am I taking crazy pills?

Rose texts me to let me know Ben is in art class: showered, and his typical quiet self. I’m tempted to go see him and do a little more follow-up, like why Poe is telling me he’s a problem child when he doesn’t seem to be, and why his parents actively avoid him. It’s very odd. Something strange is going on here.

But I don’t want to be too overbearing so I decide to let it go for the time being. Ben will talk to me when he’s ready. Soon, I hope.

I send an email to the superintendent just to be absolutely sure there isn’t something else I’m missing. A few senior girls come in to review their entrance essays with me, and another stops by before lunch to finish her soccer scholarship for some state school. I’m more distracted than I ought to be.

It’s hard, though. I keep drifting back to the day I was emancipated from Unkar and how hard I had to work and how difficult it was for me to survive. It was better than staying with him, but I’m afraid a sensitive kid like Ben doesn’t understand what he’s doing. I’m afraid he’ll get hurt or slip through the cracks.

The superintendent doesn’t answer me by the end of the day and I’m determined to give Ben space. I check my phone on my way out to my car, letting my head roll back when I get to it. I have to be less overbearing. He doesn’t need a mother.

—•—

After I go home and feed Hattie and water my plants I head to the grocery store for quesadilla supplies. I’m in the mood for them, and maybe some wine and a funny movie. It’s been a day.

I meander through the brightly-lit aisles, struggling to hold my groceries because I’m too shortsighted to get a basket first. I never do. I just suffer and drop stuff and curse under my breath and people stare at me. Such is life for Rey Niima. Maybe they have those samples today. Love free samples. Kept me alive when I was a kid.

“Miss Niima?”

I’m frowning at the boxes of wine trying to figure out how I’m going to get one when I hear my name. I blink, thinking I’m mistaken—but yes, it’s Ben, head cocked and shoulders hunched, watching me from the other side of the apple display. Oh.

I take a sharp step back from the wine. “Hey—heeeey, Ben! How, uh… how are you?”

He’s wearing all black like usual, sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the fruits and vegetables. His hood is up so I can’t see his hair and his hands are in his hoodie pockets. Looks… suspicious.

Ben looks around. He bends and holds up a basket when he straightens and I can’t help but laugh, stilted and uncomfortable as he smiles and walks over to give it to me. Great. This is weird. He just caught me sizing up boxed wine on a Tuesday night.

“Thanks,” I say, dropping my crap in the basket. Tampons included. “You’re… at a grocery store?”

“Yeah. Just getting a couple things.”

“By yourself?”

“Yup.” Ben picks up the box of wine I was flirting with and hands it to me. “Not everyone eats raccoon food, you know.”

I laugh. Funny. Stings, because it’s accurate. He smiles faintly, like he was expecting I wouldn’t laugh. I think his tail would be wagging if he were a dog.

“Are you home alone?” I ask, reverting to my nosy overbearing-ness.

“Uh… no, no. Snoke is waiting for me.” Ben rubs his nose. “Trying to get back in his good graces.”

“So you’re making dinner?”

“I usually do. Just trying to make something special, I guess.”

Kind of… weird. I get sucking up to a significant other after a fight with a fancy dinner but it seems like a strange dynamic with a father figure and a teenage boy.

Ben avoids my eyes and my frown slowly fades into a blank stare. Oh. _Gross._

I’m hit by the realization so quickly that it’s almost impossible to save face. Ben notices my expression and his pale cheeks flush pink. He clears his throat, backing up a couple steps, and I shake my head and follow him. No, no. He’s only sixteen—and this Snoke person was his _teacher_ —

“Ben—”

“I should go. He gets upset when I’m late.”

He’s fast, but I’m a bit faster. I cut him off near the bananas and smile as best as I can, trying not to look panicked and sickened and slightly out of breath.

“Hey—hey—um…” I shift my box of wine up on my hip and snap my fingers a couple times. “I’m a terrible cook, you know. I eat Hungry Man dinners. Maybe you can show me… something? Food-cooking-wise?”

“He gets mad when I’m late and I told him I’d only be twenty minutes.”

“ _Oh_ , I’m sure he’ll be fine. DoorDash, Grubhub, Postmates. He’ll be fine.” I shake my basket and Ben glances at it. He’s blushing. “I’m in dire straits here. Look at how much I’m suffering, Ben.”

He smiles a little. His hands are shoved in his pockets and his dark eyes flicker back and forth, probably looking for Snoke, who I’m sure wouldn’t hesitate to follow him. That’s okay. I’ve kicked creepy old man ass before when they would come sniffing around my alley and I’ll do it again.

Ben tentatively reaches for my basket. He pauses, but when I nod he picks through my ingredients, moving things aside and reading labels. What am I doing? I can’t have a student in my apartment. But I can’t let him go back home, either.

“Instant mashed potatoes?” he comments with a surprising level of disgust. “Frozen pierogies?”

“Listen, I like my food fast and simple.”

He picks up canned chicken and gives me a judgmental look that I just shrug helplessly to. I’m not even lying—this is my life.

Ben inhales and smiles as he gingerly takes my basket. “I’m just going to put this all back.”

“What?! What’s wrong with canned chicken?”

“Everything.”

Well I’m not sure sure about _that_. I huff and gesticulate for him to lead the way, and he gives me another crooked smile before we start off.

—•—

We come home with more food than I intended, and I try not to look guilty leading Ben up to my apartment. He’s sort of impossible to hide.

Hattie hops down from the couch to greet us, tail raised, meows rapid and high-pitched. Ben sets down his bags on the island and crouches to pet her, beaming. I’ve always wanted to bring her in to the office. Kids love animals.

I drop my groceries on the island. “So this is my house. And that’s Hattie. I _do_ feed her, even though she seems to think otherwise.”

Ben stands. He’s still watching her, smiling and distracted as he helps me empty the bags. I’ve never seen him smile so much. Maybe he needs a pet.

He turns to look out into my living room. It’s a nice place. I don’t need a lot, just four walls and electricity, and I’m not the best interior decorator. Old habits die hard and most of my furniture is mismatched junk I found on Craigslist and repainted. I only have framed pictures of Hattie and a copy of my diploma on the wall, but I do have a lot of plants on the wide windowsills.

“Eclectic,” Ben says.

I burst out laughing. He reddens and hurries along with unpacking the groceries. Yeah, _eclectic_.

“You’re so sweet,” I say, turning to put away some cream cheese in the fridge. “First you tell me I don’t have any gray hair, then you tell me my hodgepodge décor is ‘eclectic’.”

“You don’t,” he mumbles. “Your hair is all brown.”

Yeah. I’m only thirty but I’ve found a few, and panicked, and pulled them out.

Ben keeps the ingredients he needs for the quesadillas and I show him where my pots and pans are: shoved in a cabinet in the corner. I feel weird having him actually cook for me so I suggest I cook this week and he can next time.

Which is setting up for a ‘next time.’ He lingers by my side when I start the burner and open the tortillas. Don’t have much choice, really. There will have to be a next time until I can get one of his parents or Poe to take him in.

“I can cut the vegetables,” Ben offers.

“Oh, sure. Thanks.”

He nods. His hood is down and he puts his hair back in a ponytail, the hesitates in unzipping his hoodie. I watch him debate it for a minute and pause again when he starts pushing up his sleeves.

“I’m not going to lecture you,” I say. “Not today, anyway. Maybe tomorrow in school.”

Ben doesn’t respond. I already saw a little of his wrists when we first met but I’m still sad when he takes off the hoodie and I see his forearms from the corner of my eye. It’s better if I don’t linger or worry right now. He’s already nervous. We can talk about it tomorrow if he wants to, but he should really see a therapist.

He cuts up the vegetables much faster than I ever could. I’m worried he’s going to lob off a finger but he’s very precise, like one of those chefs on the cooking channel. His eyes tear up while he cuts the onion but it’s done so quickly that I barely notice. Quick.

I don’t say much. I don’t want to push him more than I already have. We cook the chicken and make our quesadillas quietly, Hattie dropping by once or twice for a handout, and I wait for Ben to decide he wants to talk. He must want to talk.

But the quiet persists through dinner. We sit at the island next to each other and he’s just as delicate and careful with eating his quesadilla as he was with his pizza. He winces when grease runs down his fingers and gets up to wash his hands twice.

“Good, right?” I ask as Ben sits beside me again.

“Yeah, it’s really good. Thank you.”

I nod, shoving the last chunk of my quesadilla down my throat. Ben is eating his with a knife and fork and he’s only half done.

I clean my fingers with a napkin, chewing and swallowing before I speak. “Do me a favor: don’t tell anyone you’re hanging out at my apartment, okay?”

“Oh, yeah. I won’t, I mean.” Ben shrugs sheepishly. “I don’t have anyone to tell.”

“Not like we’re doing anything bad but I don’t want people to get the wrong impression.”

“Right, right. Definitely.”

It’s wrong to tell him not to tell other people he was in my apartment. I shouldn’t be asking him to keep secrets for me, but good intentions aside, this is wildly inappropriate. I have to cover my ass.

Ben finishes his dinner. I glance at his forearm from the corner of my eye, sick at the thought of letting him leave. He can’t stay here overnight. He would have to use my shower and he needs clean clothes at some point for school… which would mean I’d have to bring him back to Snoke’s at some point. 

I sip my Pepsi as Ben gets up to wash grease off his hands again. If he’s hurting himself and in abject danger, I can’t let him go back home. It would be neglectful for me to let him go back there.

I set down my glass, drumming my fingers on it.

“You can stay here, Ben.”

The water shuts off behind me. He’s quiet for a minute, and Hattie comes wandering back to the kitchen for more food.

Ben clears his throat and picks up his empty plate. “It’s okay. You don’t have to do that.”

“You should stay. You can sleep on the pull-out, and I’ll show you how to use the shower.”

“It’s okay. He’ll be mad if I don’t come home.”

I turn to face Ben’s back. He’s rinsing his plate in the sink, broad shoulders drooping inward. He doesn’t want to go back there, but I think he’s more afraid of being abandoned and rejected than anything else.

I step off my seat. My hand is in the air, but I put it down without touching him.

“I would really like it if you stayed here, Ben,” I say, gently, but sternly.

“I can’t.” His shoulders twitch as he scrubs his plate. “He’s going to be mad at me and I really hate when he’s mad at me.”

“Leave that to me, okay? You just… you should really just stay here. Please.”

Ben doesn’t answer for a minute. I have a dishwasher but let him keep scrubbing the plate until he’s satisfied, then step aside so he can grab mine, too. His face is completely blank when he turns; it’s strange and alien and makes my skin prickle. He picks up my plate and goes straight into washing it.

Water runs, interspersed with splashes and clinking as the plate bumps on the metal sink. Hattie sits by my feet and looks up at me.

“I have to finish cleaning before I go to bed.” Ben picks up his fork, leaning over to examine it while he washes. “Is that’s okay.”

“Sure. I’ll go get the bed ready.”

He nods once, then resumes scrubbing.

I quietly slip away to the hall closet for some extra linens. Good. Thank god. At least he’s safe here.


End file.
